


Five things Tony Stark hates, and one footnote.

by secretly_a_savior



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Casual Sex, Dirty Talk, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-05-08 13:01:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5497940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/secretly_a_savior/pseuds/secretly_a_savior
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the Winteriron Holiday Exchange</p><p>Tony Stark wasn’t a very black and white person. A lot of his opinions were grey, y’know? He wasn’t hateful, or spiteful. He wasn’t absolutely obsessed with anyone or anything. He found loving things and hating things ended in disappointment- not to mention, “hate leads to suffering”, right? But one thing- or, person, rather- he was sure he hated (aside from himself, of course) was James Buchanan Barnes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I. James Buchanan Barnes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kasai_Mayonaka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kasai_Mayonaka/gifts).



> This is for the Winteriron Holiday Exchange, for the wonderful blogger http://kasai-mayonaka.tumblr.com/ !
> 
> I hope you like this! It was a labor of love, and I tried to incorporate the ideas you gave me! I really love this fic format and I used this exchange as an excuse to experiment with it oops sorry!
> 
> PLEASE COMMENT COMMENTS VALIDATE ME AS A HUMAN BEING
> 
> tony still has his arc reactor, not that it matters  
> and tony has a cat, is is briefly mentioned, not that that matters. 
> 
> Thank you!!

I.

Tony Stark wasn’t a very _black and white_ person. A lot of his opinions were **_grey,_** y’know? He wasn’t _hateful, or spiteful._ He wasn’t **absolutely obsessed** with anyone or anything. He found loving things and hating things ended in disappointment- _not to mention,_ “hate leads to suffering”, right? Even the few opinions he had were _absolutely changeable._ He wasn’t impressionable, not by any means. He was just open minded. He prided himself in that, being changeable. (At least, when he needed to be.) He wasn’t stone cold like his father.

One thing- or, person, rather- he was sure he hated (aside from himself, of course) was James Buchanan Barnes. He and Tony weren’t too different, really. Sure, there was the _generational gap,_ but they were both self-loathing messes who couldn’t sleep through the night. They were both close to Steve Rogers. A lot of things pointed towards Tony and James- _(“Really, Bucky? Kinda **tacky** if you ask me.  I’m gonna call y’ James”.)- _being close friends. Tony had a whole lot of reason to _resent_ him though.

For example- he **_killed_** Howard and Maria Stark. Sure, Tony had a pretty shitty relationship with his father, but no one should have their parents ripped from them at the age of seventeen- and be thrust into the most high-stakes business in the world at the age of twenty-one. Tony spent _years_ anxious on and around highways, and he could hardly remember his thirties because of all the drinking.. and… _other vices._ If Howard was still alive Tony could see himself being relatively _well adjusted._ But, nope! Not at all. Not even a little bit. Tony spent years being lied to- a **_car accident-_** and now he had to house the assassin that prevented Tony from having a decent fucking life. Now he had to sign this clown’s _paycheck._ (The army doesn’t pay back-benefits to ** _treasonists,_** which Tony thought was fair enough.)

The only thing that Tony did like about Barnes was his **_body-_** and how well he used it. No, they weren’t _friends,_ but “enemies-with-benefits” sounded like a bad sitcom. Their fights stopped turning _physical,_ and turned.. well.. **_physical._** God, his mouth was fucking _sinful-_ what Tim O’Brien said was **true.** You send boys out to war and they come back **_talking dirty._** Dirty was an _understatement,_ actually. It was so wrong, especially considering Tony was moving towards celebrating his 47th birthday and Bucky was _in all technicality_ like, 26, but also because they couldn’t get through a _single day_ without hurling insults and glares. They weren’t _friends,_ but they were lovers. The epitome of **messed up,** if you asked Tony.


	2. II. Being lifted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *smut below, feel free to skip this chapter if you aren't comfortable with it!*

II.

Tony Stark hated being picked up. Didn’t even like it when he was a _kid._ There was something about it that made him feel **_childish-_** and as someone who was never really give the opportunity to **_be_** a **_child,_** that wasn’t a great feeling. He could have two shattered fibulas and a missing _foot_ and he still wouldn’t let anyone pick him up. He liked having the illusion that he could do what he wanted with no help- he wasn’t dependent on anyone. He had been independent for a long time- he didn’t want it taken **now.** Even the little losses of freedom hit him like a punch in the stomach.

Tony Stark hated being picked up- yet here he was. Held up by strong arms, one of which had light from the setting sun bouncing off its metallic surface, casting shapes on the wall and near-blinding Tony. His bare back was flat against the wall, slick with sweat as he was _fucked_ into _oblivion._ Held up like he weighed _nothing-_ the other’s arms didn’t even look like they were **flexing.** Seriously, if he died like this he wouldn’t even be mad, because he would die feeling fucking _incredible-_ if not a little overwhelmed. “Fu-u-u-ck.” he hissed, Bucky’s rhythmic thrusts breaking up the word as Tony rolled his eyes back. His blood in his veins felt like _fire_ as he tightened his legs around the brunet’s waist. He’d already cum once- this was round _two_ out of _who knows how many_ because that super-serum _apparently_ improved James’ stamina in more ways than one- and Tony felt like he’d never been so thoroughly _fucked_ in his **life.**

“You _love this,_ don’t you?” the super-soldier asked, his voice husky in Tony’s ear. “You’re not even doing any of the work, just fuckin’ _taking it,_ Stark.”

“Fuck, _yes,_ I love it.” Tony replied, his voice near-gone, the words a mixture of a whisper and a low, needy moan. Bucky’s pace slowed slightly as he shifted, and suddenly he was repeatedly _slamming_ into Tony’s sweet spot and Tony’s head involuntarily shifted back, hitting the wall with a dull _clunk!. (_ He’d care about the bump on his head _later.)_ Hs neck was exposed now, and Bucky took the opportunity to lean into the mechanic, roughly kissing and nipping at the hollow of his jaw. A string of expletives left Tony’s mouth and he pushed into the touch.

“Sometimes I think you incite _arguments_ just to get **fucked** like this, Tony.” Bucky purhered against Tony’s now-red skin, his voice remarkably even despite how uneven his pace was becoming.

“Just shut up and fuck me, Barnes.” The engineer growled, the hand that had somehow wound up in the other’s long hair, tightening. He tugged the other up by his brown hair and pulled him into a heated kiss, nipping at his lips and despite his mouth’s occupation, still letting out rather loud moans and noises. He felt an arm-the other’s flesh and blood arm- snake out from around him and a hand wrap around his cock and he immediately bucked into the touch.

“So _need-“_

 _“_ What did I **_just_** say, asshole?”

“C’mon, _Stark,_ have some **fun** once in a while.” Bucky said, moving his hand at the same pace he was moving, or at least _trying to._ “C’mon, Tony.” He coaxed, pulling their lips apart and leaning into Tony’s ear.

“Fuck- I’m gonna-“is all Tony got out before he came with a wordless cry, his legs tightening around the super-soldier. He bit down on the inside of his mouth, his hand tightening on brunet curls again, the other running down his back, short, broken nails leaving superficial scratches on the soft skin. The other kept going for a solid _minute,_ each thrust emitting a breathless and blissed out gasp from Tony, before coming.

“ ** _Fuck,_** so good, Stark. So fucking loud for me.” He let out, right into Tony’s ear as he halted, bringing both hands under Tony and pulling him from the wall, bringing him to the bed and dropping him there unceremoniously before joining him in the silk sheets.

“Fuck you.” Tony said, letting his senses come back to him one by one, rolling closer to the super-soldier despite his crude statements.

“I mean if you’re feeling _up to it,_ old man.” James teased back, pulling Tony in close.

“That’s not what I meant, _don’t_ pick me up.”

Bucky frowned, tensing up a bit. “You weren’t complaining.. are you okay? I didn’t mean-” he let his voice trail off, and Tony just let out a totally frustrated sigh, shaking his head.

“I’m fine. Just have a thing about being _lifted-_ but that was pretty great, I’ll admit.” Bucky grinned, letting the tension fall from his form, glad he hadn’t hurt the other.


	3. III. Being fussed over

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the russian words used mean "asset" and "weapon", respectively.

Tony Stark hated being fussed over. He didn’t let Pepper do it, he didn’t let Rhodey do it, and by God he wasn’t going to start letting Bucky do it either. (Okay, maybe he’d warmed up to the nickname. It was nice- James was much too _uptight_ and **professional** for someone so easy to be around.) But maybe this was a _bit different_. The Winter Soldier hovered over Tony as he ate his salad, the rest of the team surrounding them, all eating their own lunches. The Avengers were a _family-_ they all had different schedules and agendas but once a week they all sat to have lunch together around the counter on the communal floor of the tower- the floor where the team could live, eat, come and go as they pleased. Tony wasn’t too keen on living _alone_ anymore, so the floor below his penthouse was for the team. With nine bedrooms, a fully stocked kitchen, and a large entertainment room, it was a place many of them spent their time when they weren’t with family or dealing with their own affairs.

Tony was a little _worse for wear_ at today’s lunch- he had a public speaking engagement that turned into an assassination attempt that turned into Iron Man as an army of one against ten armed assailants. He was a little bit _shaken up,_ to say the least, and when Bucky’d heard it was an assassination attempt, he’d been unable to _cope well-_ The Soldier came back out to play- as He often did when Barnes was triggered or otherwise unsure what to do- and for some unknown reason he was protective of Tony. Extremely protective, actually. Bucky and Tony’d become incredibly close recently. Best friends, even, much to Steve’s dismay. Best friends and still, occasional lovers. You didn’t just _stop_ having some of the best sex you’d ever had, after all. That didn’t really explain the Soldier’s attachment though. Without a _handler_ he seemed to need some sort of purpose. He sought that through Tony.

Tony leant into the counter, wincing as he tried placing his slung arm up on the counter.

“You okay, Stark?” asked Clint as he set down his drink. He hardly took notice of the Soldier’s grimace as he spoke to Tony.

“Yeah.” Tony replied with a nod. “A bit sore, but I’ve been through worse.” He said. Nearly _immediately_ he heard some shuffling behind him and there was ice placed before him, causing the team to snicker. “Wh- what?” he asked, face scrunching together in distaste.

“You’re sore.”

It was a flat remark- not a question- stated as a _fact._ Tony slumped slightly, growling with frustration. He couldn’t _lash out_ at Bucky- no, especially not like this. Winter had an _intense_ fear of **mistakes.** He thought that if he screwed up, or failed to complete a task he’d be iced or harmed- much like Bucky when he first came back around. He pushed his food away and straightened up.

“Thank you. Didn’t say I needed ice, though.” Tony replied, as calm as possible, frowning when it elicited a physical _flinch_ from the brunet. Steve straightened up, appearing as if he was getting ready to say something, and pointing at Tony, sticking a finger right in his face. Natasha and Clint were laughing, and Sam and Wanda were just watching curiously. (Bruce had already finished lunch and stepped out, made nervous by the Soldier’s presence.) All of the chatter went silent, though, as Winter swatted the hand away and straightened up, glaring _daggers_ at Steve. Tony gave Steve an apologetic glance and muttered something about **needing to step away.**

Of course, Winter followed Tony out to the roof- from a distance, so as not to upset Tony- and watched him, making sure he wasn’t hurt. Tony sat down on the ground and stared out at the skyline, trying to calm himself down. Was Bucky really worth having to deal with _this?_ He took care of **himself-** didn’t need anyone else to do it for him. He lit a cigarette- which was a _process,_ considering one of his arms was stuck in a sling- and let the tension fall from his form. The Soldier came and sat down next to Tony, adjusting himself on the gravelly surface for a second.

“You’re tired?” The Soldier asked simply, not even looking at the engineer. Tony was someone who needed _protection._ He was so **small** yet so fierce- like someone the Soldier could remember from a long time ago. Tony was _good_ to him. Didn’t call him _актив_ or _оружие_. Didn’t hurt him or stick him away. It was strange- he didn’t know how to _act_ around tenderness like Tony’s, so he did his damndest to keep the mechanic alive because _who knew_ when he would find another handler like him?

“Fuckin’ exhausted.” Tony replied through the smoke that uncurled from his lips. Before he even knew what was happening, the cigarette was out against the concrete and he was pulled into the other’s arms. “What did I say about being _carried?”_ Tony asked- a _rhetorical q_ uestion of course, and one that Winter ignored. He didn’t fuss or try to worm his way out of the touches though- he was too tired for that, and when he was dropped unceremoniously on his bed he thought that’d be the end of it, and he’d have a discussion with **_Bucky_** about that when he came back around.

Tony glanced at his reading chair and saw the Soldier sitting up at attention in it, like a guard, and huffed. “Come over here.” He said, the ‘ _demand’_ coming out soft and kind. Winter obliged and crossed the room so he was standing in front of Tony.

“Yes?”

“No. In the bed, idiot.” He said- the word _idiot_ used **almost** as a term of endearment- meant **playfully** at any rate. The Soldier cocked his head and walked around the bed to the side that usually stayed empty and climbed in, lying flat on his back, clearly confused. Tony rolled over- careful of his arm and his bruised ribs- and curled around Winter’s side, finding it an _immense comfort._  

“Are you comfortable?”

“Shut up and let me sleep before I change my mind.” He said, shaking his head and letting out a short, frustrated exhale. He drifted to sleep in silence shortly after that, and when he awoke, Bucky had come to.

“I can explain, I-“ Tony’s face flushed red, and he sat up _way too quickly,_ gasping as everything that _hurt_ suddenly hurt a lot more.

“No- Don’t. If I was mad I woulda left four hours ago when I came to. Tony, you’re beat to _hell-_ is that a **bullet wound?”** Bucky asked, sitting up as well, a hand grazing over the gauze on Tony’s shoulder. Tony sighed and nodded, not moving as Bucky climbed over to get closer, inspecting his injuries. Tony Stark _hated_ being fussed over, but maybe _this_ was _a bit different._


	4. IV. Sleeping alone

 

IV

Tony Stark hated sleeping alone. He did it though, every night, and just- well- suffered through. Mostly out of respect for whomever he might find himself in bed with. Whoever they were, they didn’t deserve to deal with that- to deal with him when he woke up in a cold sweat, shaking. To deal with him slipping out of bed at 3:30am to feed his cat or jot down an idea. Sleeping in bed with someone else implied commitment he didn’t have or deserve.

He hated it, he really did. It was always **cold,** and much too quiet. He found himself _lonely_ and _awake_ and _depressed_ most nights **. He hated it** , and that’s why nights like tonight made his heart flutter, made him second guess himself and his own opinions. Steel fingers played through his jet-black hair and the content hums of one half-dressed James Buchanan Barnes kept the night’s winter silence from getting to Tony. Nights like _tonight_ made him wonder if maybe things had evolved a little bit above casual sex. It made sense, really, clichés are what Tony Stark did best- or, at least that’s what the magazines would have you believe.

“You look good like this.” Bucky observed, as Tony pressed every inch of him that he could into Bucky’s chest. Tony’s face flushed hot.

“You can’t even see my face.”

“Doesn’t matter. You’re at rest- you’re not puttin’ up a fight, not workin’ tirelessly at some gadget.” He muttered. His voice was heavy with sleep and his Brooklyn accent came out thick. It gave a real sense he was talking to **Bucky.** Not The Winter Soldier, not the tortured man that came after The Winter Soldier. The man himself.

            “You don’t complain when that _gadget_ is your arm.”

            “Shut up and let me admire you, Stark.”

            Tony just replied with a gruff, sleepy chuckle, quirking an eyebrow and then letting all of the tension fall from him, really relaxing as he felt the brunet’s flesh arm pull him closer- or, tighter as the case was. “There really isn’t much to _admire._ “ Tony said. “Trust me, I’ve tried.” He said, eliciting a frown from the super soldier that held him.

            “What did I just say?” he asked, this time his voice was concerned, upset about Tony’s own opinion of himself- although it mirrored his own perceived self-worth. Bucky wondered why he cared so much all of a sudden, but didn’t really think much past that question. He used to hate Tony. With every fibre of his _being_ he used to hate Tony? But now? Now the hatred and the anger seemed ridiculous. He was close with him now- and found himself sometimes wondering if he wanted more than just what they had. More than just hushed whispers and rough sex. More of this- more of the casual, affectionate touches and the playful chatter. Tony just let out a resigned sigh and burrowed further into Bucky’s affectionate touch.

            “Good night.” He muttered quietly.

            “G’night.” Bucky replied as he let himself drift comfortably to sleep.


	5. V. 'I Love You's

V

Tony Stark hated “I Love You”s. Really, he’d never gotten them from his family and giving them now always seemed to carry an uncomfortable weight. He was a _flippant_ person, and a flippant person with a target on his back at that. _I Love You_ always came with the footnote “*but I’m not good at showing it and I’m an egomaniac alcoholic who could die any moment”. That little _asterisk_ was always **hovering.** Always reminding him that love, as arbitrary and unscientific as it was, was something he may as well stay out of. It just didn’t _work-_ sure it made **him** feel good but the other person would forever be dealing with his issues and his plethora of faults.

And then, inevitably, they’d leave him.

They always did.

            He’d found a loophole though. Just don’t say it’s _love._ Don’t really **commit** and then when they leave him, it won’t hurt as much. For either of them. That seemed to be _working_ for the time being, with Bucky. It was a whole lot more than just **sex** at this point. They slept with each other near-every-night, there was PDA, and there were dates. Just no _capital L Love,_ and seemingly, Bucky was okay without putting a label on it too.

The problem was, though, that Tony _capital L Love_ d Bucky. Like, **a lot.** He didn’t know when, why or how, he just **_did._** He came in and he swept Tony off his feet- he put the broken pieces back. Tony really hadn’t found himself reaching for a drink, or a smoke when he was stressed. He hadn’t had as many nightmares or panic attacks, and when he did, Bucky was right there until it was over. He was **getting better-** a miraculous recovery of who he had the power to be.

Tony was pulled from his thoughts as he heard a door slam behind him. Bucky’d disappeared somewhere earlier and Tony really didn’t question it- what right did he have to do that? He stood from the couch and saw that it was his bedroom that’d slammed. He approached the door cautiously and knocked.

“Hey, Buck, you alright?” he asked, unsure of what the conventions were here. It was _his damn bedroom_ (Their bedroom, maybe?) but he respected Bucky. If he _needed_ privacy… **oh, fuck it.** Tony swiped his thumb on the small doorframe panel, overriding the manual lock and entering to see Bucky- crying? He immediately rushed to the bed, face twisted in sadness and concern. The brunet was curled in on himself, face buried in Tony’s pillow. Tony couldn’t tell if he was crying or hyperventilating. Or both. He stood there for a moment- shocked, and immediately felt like absolute fucking **shit.**

He was too focused on himself and never even realized Buck had his own fuckin’ problems. Whenever he just- disappeared was this what was happening? Tony realized the symptoms, the shivering, the hyperventilation, the need for a comforting thing. He was having a panic attack. Tony shook himself from his self-loathing and immediately moved into the bed, pulling the other to a seated position and slotting him between his legs, wrapping his arms all the way around the super-soldier’s shoulders and chest. “C’mon, babe, it’s okay.” He whispered.

They sat there like that for a long time, until Bucky turned himself around quickly so that his wet face was buried in Tony’s _Star Wars_ t-shirt and his arms were wrapped around the mechanic. Tony let out a long sigh and brought a hand to play through Bucky’s hair. “It’s okay.” He repeated.

And then Bucky looked up.

Tony wasn’t _prepared_ for what happened next, not at all. Because really, who could love him? He was a mess- an inconsiderate one all things considered. He was married to his work and his appearance. He had a history as a womanizer and there was no guarantee that his heart wouldn’t just **stop,** seeing as its existence depended on a fucking **_magnet_** embedded in his chest. Especially Bucky- Bucky who used to insult him at every possible junction. Bucky who ‘ _had no time’_ to be with someone who ‘ _only left the lab once a week.’_ So when Bucky’s cobalt blue eyes locked with Tony’s brown ones and said

“I love you.”

Tony didn’t know what to say back. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out, his face contorted into a _sympathetic_ look, trying to convey **you don’t understand!** Bucky’s expression changed from calm and hopeful to almost _scared,_ and Tony gave in. Bucky’d changed things before- why couldn’t he change this too?

            “I love you too ** _*_**.” Tony replied, letting out a breath he didn’t know how long he’d been holding.


	6. *: A footnote on "I love you too."

**_ *  _ **

            Tony Stark still hated James Buchanan Barnes. Don’t get him wrong, he absolutely despises him- but, not for the same reasons as he did before. Not he hated Bucky for _changing him._ He hated him for his perfect blue eyes that Tony couldn’t say _no_ to. He hated him for coming out of tragedy and still being so selfless. He hated him because the penthouse at the top of Stark Towers was starting to feel a whole lot like _home-_ something Tony Stark had never really **had.**

            He hated him, because every fucking day he said _‘I love you’_ to Tony and that’s something Tony couldn’t say to himself. Bucky saw the world in Tony and Tony quite simply **didn’t have the world.** He hated him because when he hugged Tony so hard he picked him up, when he said “I love you”, when he fussed over Tony, Tony couldn’t help but just _smile_ and say he loved him right back. It was something Tony’d never had- something Tony swore he would _never_ have. It didn’t feel like it was him, even. He felt like a changed man- but in a _much better way._

            He was happier, he was more stable- they were **together** in things. Tony wasn’t _alone_ anymore, and he’d felt alone all his life. So for that, despite how much he **_loved_** Bucky, he hated him just as much. Hated that _someone else_ could come in and change his life in all the ways he’d wanted to do himself. And loved him for it all the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it! It was hella fun to write even if I did have to write the whole thing twice. (Thanks, american education system- you never fail me.) ((a school computer scanned and wiped my external flash drive.))
> 
> I hope you liked it kasai-mayonaka! Happy holidays! Merry Christmas!! Holla holla get dolla!  
> All that fun stuff!


End file.
